


Nightingale

by ladyj81



Category: The Tudors
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-15
Updated: 2013-10-15
Packaged: 2017-12-29 13:12:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1005826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyj81/pseuds/ladyj81
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In order to emphasize his own marriage to Anne, Henry forces Katherine to remarry. Will  Katherine ever get her happy ending?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

****

 

Katherine stared at the letter in shock. She reread it again to make sure that she was reading it correctly. She couldn't believe that this was happening. Henry was forcing her to remarry again. She had no idea who he had in mind, and the letter he made no mention of it. But she could only imagine. Bile came to her throat as couple of names popped in her head. One being Thomas Boleyn, and the other Thomas Howard, or worse Thomas Cromwell, she would sooner go to her death then marry any of these men.

Thomas Boleyn was nothing more than a snake in the grass. A man who would use his own children to advance his own power was not man at all. How was she expected to marry a man who was a part of ruining her marriage? And whose daughter had usurped her position as Queen. The only comfort she took was realizing that the people would never truly accept Anne Boleyn as their Queen.

She sneered thinking about the last time she had saw him. He had come here to the More to visit her. He basically told her if she did not sign the oath that he would make her daughter's life even more harsher than it already was.

She wanted to slap in the face, but with the strength of God she kept her temper in. She couldn't help but feel gleeful at his frustrated expression when she once again told him that she rather burn then sign that heretic document. "That can be arranged Madame,' he told her in an ice cold voice.

She couldn't help but feel amazed at the shear gall of the man. This just showed how far her husband Kingdom had sunk, that commoners could go around and threaten his betters. It was outrageous. She felt nauseas at thought of marrying him. Boleyn had been widower now for several years, and no doubt he would marry in hopes of controlling her, and furthering his own power at court.

Then there was Thomas Howard, though she didn't despise him as much as she did his brother-in-law.

He was just as power hungry as his brother-in-law, and she had no doubt that he played a part of the ruination of her marriage. But there was something else that turned her off to the man. She was not blind; she saw the way he looked at her over the years. The hunger in his eyes, he acted as though he knew what she looked like under her dress.

She couldn't help but feel revolted. She couldn't deny that the man was indeed handsome, but under the handsome face was the devil himself.

Then there was Thomas Cromwell. No, she wasn't even going to think about it. She knew that Henry was angry at her, but surely he didn't hate her this much to marry to any if these bastards? It was obvious that Henry was desperate. He knew that his marriage to Anne was nothing more then a sham. And in order to prove himself wrong and others who thought this, he thought he could marry her off to someone else and all his problems would be solved.

Charles Brandon, The Duke of Suffolk's stood by the hearth in his hand was a glass of ale. He wore a grim expression on his face. He looked over at the Queen. He knew that it was practically treasonous to refer to her or even think that she was the Queen. He didn't care, to him she would always be the true and not the black crow he thought thinking of Anne Boleyn. It pained him that he had to pay homage to her as Queen. He honestly couldn't understand why Henry was so bedazzled by the wench. He couldn't help but think that there was witch craft afoot. He had told this to Henry, who had banished from Court for nearly a month. He learned a great lesson never disparage the harlot in front of Henry.

His thought's turned to recent events. He couldn't believe that Henry was going to such great lengths to prove that his marriage to Queen Katherine was over. He couldn't help but think that all this was going to backfire on his friend. He then grew angry when Henry told him that Anne thought it was a great idea. He should have known that she would have something to do with this. "Who do you have in mind for the Princess Dowager?" he has asked his friend. Henry speared a piece of roasted duck from his plate and bit into ravenously. "I was thinking someone close to me like Boleyn or even Cromwell, but after second thought that Simply won't do." Charles couldn't help but feel relived about that.

"I want a suitor that would take both Katherine and her bastard far away from England." Charles couldn't help but feel appalled by the way that Henry was talking about his wife and daughter. Anne had changed him and not for the better.

"The sooner the better."

"Do you have any potential suitors in mind?" He immediately asked, he wanted to prepare the Queen incase Henry did have someone in mind. "I'm sending envoys to both France and Scotland as we speak. There is no way in hell that I'm going to consider a suitor from Spain. Speaking of the bastard, Charles had nerve to write and request that I send Katherine and Mary to him and he would arrange a marriage for her."

Charles couldn't help but think that was a good idea. He knew that idea would never appeal to Henry though. He wanted to hand over Katherine to someone who beyond loyal to him.

Coming from his thoughts, he looked at the sorrow in the Queen face. He looked away not bearing to look at the sorrow in her eyes. He couldn't help but curse Henry. He had done so much to hurt her already. Banishing from court, not letting her see her daughter was just the tip of the iceberg. It seemed like the only good thing that came out of this mess was that Katherine was going to be reunited with her daughter.

"I need to speak with his majesty?" Katherine spoke; maybe if she spoke to Henry he would change his mind. But looking at Brandon she knew that would be a fruitless endeavor. "I advise against it your majesty, the King is set in his course."

Despite herself she couldn't help but smile, she knew how much Charles was loyal Henry, but despite this he still thought she was Queen. This just reminded her of all the supporters that she had to her cause.

She then sighed, "Has his majesty made any mention to whom he is going to wed me to?" the words left a bitter taste in her mouth.

"No, the only thing he said to me that your future husband was going to be a foreigner. He's looking to France or Scotland as we speak."

Katherine shifted uncomfortably, she deliberately left her face blank. Though she knew that Charles could be trusted, she didn't want to show weakness to him by showing her displeasure at the thought of a match with either a Frenchmen or a Scotsman. If God was good to her he would chose a Scotsman. Despite her hatred of the French, she whether be married to some Frenchmen then the three Thomas's.

Looking at Brandon, who was looking at her in sympathy? She smiled at him. "Don't worry your Grace; I'm sure whatever God has in store for me it was mean to be. And for that I am truly happy. Now leave me, so I can pray for me and my daughter, and thank God for his blessing."

"You majesty," Brandon bowed and quickly left, he didn't see the loan tear that fell from the Queen's eyes.

To be continued.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own the Tudors or any of its characters. Nor do I make any profit from this.

****

 

Mary was currently in the gardens of Hever Castle. She was sitting on a stone bench. She was enjoying the warm air, the smell of the flowers that was in the air, and the sounds of the birds chirping around her. In her hands was a well-worn looking bible, which had belonged to her mother. Who had given it to Chapuy's to give to her? Her eyes skimmed over the familiar words of the passage that she was reading. This was one of her favorite passages in her bible. She knew the whole thing by heart and could recite it without even looking at the book. The reason that it was her favorite was because her mother had often read it to her in the past.

A wave of sadness washed over her, wishing that her mother was with her now, she needed her now more than ever. She was tempted to write Cromwell asking him if he could go to her father and ask if she could at least write her mother. She knew that the King would not let her see her mother, but she didn't see the harm in writing a letter to her. She knew that it would be futile to go to Cromwell, she didn't trust the man, and she doubt that he would even go to the king. It was like pulling to get the simplest things from the man.

She had not seen her mother in over four years. Though it didn't seem very long, it felt like a lifetime to her.

She knew this sounded horrible and she often prayed to God for having such thoughts. But sometimes she wished that her mother was dead. It would be a whole lot easier knowing that there was a sound reason for her not being here, and not because her father was keeping them apart.

Her thought's turned to the last time she had seen her mother. She had been nine at the time. Her Governess, Lady Salisbury, had told her that her father was sending her to wales. She had not been sure how to feel about that. She had been both excited and scared. This was the first time that she was going to be away from parents, especially her mother, in a longtime. The day before she was to leave, she had gone to see her mother. Entering the Queen apartments, her eyes went to her mother. She couldn't help but note how beautiful her mother looked.

She was wearing a Forrest green dress. Instead of wearing her hair in its usual bun she wore it out. She hoped that when she was grown that she would look half as pretty as her mother. She could see that something was troubling her mother. Looking back in hindsight she could now see what was bothering her mother.

It was around that time that her father had told her mother that he wanted a divorce. He claimed that there marriage was a sin against God because she had been married to his brother. And as punishment God had not granted them male issue. Her mother shocked of course by this, and from what Chapuy's had told her, she blamed Anne Boleyn for putting this nonsense in her husband's head. Ever since the harlot had come into her father's life she had been bewitching him.

Her mother refused to go along with it, and as punishment her father had banished her from court, and not only that, worse, he was not letting her mother see or write to her. Chapuys had pleaded her father to show mercy, but Henry refused to listen. He told Chapuys that he was certain that if he provided leniency that her mother would betray him and raise and army against him, that was more fierce then those of her grandmother, Isabella of Castile.

When Chapuys had told her this, she couldn't help but laugh. The whole thing sounded ridiculous. Neither she or her mother would ever raise an army against her father. No matter how cruel he was to them. Though he didn't say this Chapuys speculated that there was other reasons that the King he refused to see reason. One being that he didn't want to upset the harlot. The other he was punishing her mother for defying him.

At seeing Mary, a genuine smile crossed her mother's face.

"Mi Amor," she said and got up from her seat. She then held out her arms to Mary. "Mama," she cried out and ran over to her mother, and threw herself in her embrace, hugging her tightly. She took in her mother unique scent, she smelled of flowers with a mixture of rain. She then pulled away; she flushed in guilt realizing that she didn't act very Princess like. Her mother didn't seem to mind, but she could tell that Lady Salisbury was disappointed. She had been constantly drilling into Mary's head that she was old enough to know better, and that she needed to start act like the Princess that she is instead of some commoner child that didn't know any better. Her actions not only how people saw her, but her father, the King, as well.

She didn't remember much from that visit. But there was something that would always be with her. " My child, remember who you are, you are the daughter of Henry VIII, and you are descended from Isabella of Castile, and Ferdinand of Spain. Be Strong, and be true, and one day you will be Queen."

"I will mama," meaning every word she said.

"I will," she said unconsciously to herself, coming back to the present. Though at the time as a child she didn't really understand, but now she understood clearly and what was at stake. Though there was a part of her that still yearned for her father's love. She had been the "The pearl of his world." She remembers when he would swing her in his arms. And they would laugh. She sighed, alas those days were over. Her father no longer saw her as his pearl, but an unwanted thing, that blocked his way in getting what he truly wanted and that was a son.

She couldn't help but feel hurt when Chapuys told her that he would often call her bastard in front of Anne Boleyn and her supporters. Seeing her hurt, he would then quickly tell her that the King didn't mean his words, that he was under the influence of witchcraft. She wanted so desperately to believe that witchcraft was responsible. But something deep inside of her was telling her it was not.

She realized that in order to protect herself and legacy she had to pull away from her father. She was going to fight. She was not going to let some bastard that her father created from a unlawful union take her throne.

"Lady Mary," a voice called out, breaking her from her train of thought. She looked in relief to see that it was Madge Sheldon and not that witch that she called a mother. Hatred washed over her as she thought of the elder matriarch of the Sheldon family. She had taken the spot of her beloved Governess, the Countess of Salisbury. At first she seemed nice, but Mary quickly saw her for what she was. Her true self became quickly known as she realized that Mary was not going to be manipulated in supporting Anne. Then her demeanor grew harsh and cold.

She often told Mary that her father was too far lenient with her she needed to know her place in the world and that she was a bastard. And it didn't matter that she was sired by the King. Her parents' marriage was a sin in the eyes of God, and therefore unlawful. She needed to be obedient to his majesty, or pay the price like any other unruly subject and that torture and death.

At first she was not going to the woman's drivel, but to angry she lost her temper, telling Lady Sheldon that she rather go to the block then turn her back on her mother, or deny her true birth right. Outraged, the woman had smacked her hard across the face, shocking even her own ladies. Her cheeks stung something fierce, but she refused to show weakness to the woman. She had bowed to her, and then left the room.

Despite herself, she found herself liking the youngest daughter of Lady Sheldon. Who was not like her mother or sister, who barely tolerated being in Mary's presence at all. She remembers the night of the confrontation with Lady Sheldon. Madge had come to her room carrying a wet cloth so she can put it on her cheek. It was that night that the two had developed a bond.

" Madge," she quickly greeted the other girl, and quickly stood up. Madge gave her a tentative smile. "Mother needs to see you," Mary grimaced, not all eager to talk with the woman.

"Has she said why?" the other girl shook her head, she then looked around to see if anyone was around. She then lowered her voice, "no, but there is a carriage out front, and by the emblem on the carriage, it's from court.

Mary made a mental list on who could possibly be here from court. She knew that if it was Chapuy's, then Madge would not right off. Plus, she knew the Ambassador didn't like to travel by carriage. He likes traveling by horse back. Plus, he would never stop by without writing to her first; he found it rude when people stopped by unannounced.

Thanking her friend she quickly made her way to lady Sheldon's private study. Standing outside the door, she took a deep breath; she swore that she was not going to let the woman get to her. She quickly rapped on the door, the door opened and she quickly recognized one of Lady Sheldon's servants. The girl gave her a scorching look, but quickly stepped out the way so she could enter.

She had to stifle a gasp; the woman that was waiting for her was not Lady Sheldon, but Anne Boleyn.

To be continued.


End file.
